


Circle Instinct

by lye_tea



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:31:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lye_tea/pseuds/lye_tea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>History repeats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circle Instinct

** Circle Instinct **

**   
**

**I.**

**  
**

_Sensei_.

She still calls him this though he is not—anymore, never was much to begin with. But they've fallen into the familiar pattern with its convenient monikers, and anything else would be too bothersome.

Before Sakura speaks, he already knows what she wants.

"You're thinking about Sasuke," Kakashi says quietly.

She lowers her head, can't quite match his eye. Gaze for gaze, it is a crusade she can't win.

Again, his predictions come through.

\--

"Sensei," Rin exhales, her voice tinged with worship.

Minato affectionately pats her head, hand resting a second too long. He smiles but continues walking.

Trailing behind, Kakashi looks at her skeptically and on cue, she blushes. Swift, she dashes ahead.

 _What?_  
—As if to say.

 

**II.**

**  
**

In so many unexpected ways, they are echoes of each other. The difference being one is dead and the other (he easily sidesteps her assault) merely halfway there.

Like Rin, Sakura is commended for her intelligence. And she too relies upon the element of surprise in combat. Only, Kakashi wishes that Sakura doesn't punch so hard (dodges another swing).

But Sakura is not sweet like Rin was. Sakura is brazen and confrontational. She likes her insults—forgoing wit and all—and is unafraid to bash her opponents bloody, skinless. Even when wrong, she is right. Except (he turns a page) she is rarely mistaken.

"Stop moving!" she screams, frustrated at last.

Raising a brow, he evades her final attack. She stares at him, mystified, lower lip trembling from rage and tears. With a sigh, Kakashi closes his book and prepares for the inevitable tirade.

Twelve-year-old girls are more trouble than they're worth.

\--

Obito is at his limit and Rin is gaining pace, matched for breath. Exhausted, they fall to the ground in unison. Even the muffled sound of their bodies skimming along spindly grass is the same.

Sitting knees-to-chin, she glares at him with a ferocity Kakashi can't comprehend. She is so small, a paper doll with large eyes and a resolute pout. In silence, she fumes while Obito yawns like a plump cat sunbathing, complaining why isn't it lunchtime yet?

Unfazed, Kakashi retorts, "Is that all, Obito? Are you that pathetic?"

Rin is the first to rise (steady now). Enraged, she issues him a direct challenge. "Why're you doing this?"

"Sensei told us to train. I thought that's what we're doing."

"But he didn't tell you to act like such a jerk!"

Kakashi shrugs. "There is no mercy in battle. Either Obito learns that or he dies."

Obito does not acknowledge their spat, does not defend himself against Kakashi's (truthful) aspersions. Twiddling his thumbs, he patiently waits for the onslaught to subside. Although Rin is wholly pissed, he isn't worried. She's not the type to lose her head—

"Just shut up!"

—and is  _so_  far beyond tears now.

"That's enough, Rin-chan."

Out of nowhere, Minato appears. Tall and glowing and  _heroic_  (Kakashi puzzles over where he stashed his halo).

Minato grabs her wrist, stopping her in mid-strike. She winces as he grips her hard (little nicks on soft flesh) and reels her back to reality. Startled, she falters, colliding straight into him. And gallant, he catches her before she spins off.

Dizzy, dazed, Rin murmurs  _thanks_.

 

**III.**

**  
**

"You should be nicer to her."

Incredulous, Sasuke recoils in alarm. "Why?" Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Kakashi's expression remains impassive. "Because one day you might regret it."

Sasuke sneers. "You think I like her."

"No, I don't—nor do I think you ever will."

He does not elaborate. Instead, he resumes reading. And although curious, Sasuke gladly lets the conversation extinguish itself.

_This enigma that escapes chronicling._

A trial by fire (death by baptism) that is reserved for someday. Alone, Sasuke will face it with bare hands and a liver-spotted heart.

Kakashi knows all too well.

\--

"What happened, Rin?"

She smiles at him sadly and shakes her head, messy strands flying willy-nilly. It's no use. Dried up, that's what.

Throat heavy (panic closing in). Kakashi tries again. "Tell me. Please."

"I'm not sure."

"Sensei—"

"Has nothing to do with it," she states firmly. "I'm sorry, Kakashi-kun. For burdening you. But I'll get stronger, I promise. So you won't have to look out for me anymore. That's all, you know?"

"I know,"  _but I want to._

_Protect you. Always will._

_  
_

**IV.**

**  
**

The soap dish is empty. There is grime in the sink and slime on the tiles. Kakashi inspects his dismal bathroom and sighs. Sometimes, he really hates living alone. But then remembers the last time he had a flatmate and what a disaster that culminated—

(blood takes days to be scrubbed off completely)

"Sensei, are you ready?"

He sees Sakura in the doorway. An attenuated silhouette, framed by artificial light from the hall. She slips a kunai into the hidden holster that's strapped to her thigh. Her mind is already on the mission. And so, turning off the faucet, he follows.

He won't fail her.

Won't let her go through what Rin did.

\--

It's been two years since Obito's death. And he's still gutless, morose, ruing over what he could have done different.

One night, Rin invites him to dinner. Ramen, on me. She grins, sprinting wild like cactus fire, jostling past crowds. He is forced to pursue. Weary, Kakashi wonders how he keeps getting entangled with her. Somehow, she constantly has the upper hand.

"I'm going on a mission," she announces.

Behind a pillar of miso steam, Rin's face is bright and hopeful. Biting her lip, she waits for his response (an approval he can't grant).

"Oh?"

"Yeah. With Sensei."

_Oh._

_  
_

**V.**

**  
**

Sakura is fifteen when she first kisses him.

Note: She. Kisses. Him.

(He is compelled to reiterate—inculcate.)

She is willow-thin and too short. And as she reaches on her tippy-toes, he thinks of laughing (dares not). This, her and him, entire situation, is ludicrous.

She is sixteen when they first sleep together.

And that (he admits) is partially his fault.

Her legs are bony, splashed with bruises feathering over skin. Muscles erratic and tendons sharp. She pushes against him, wriggling like a fish with its gills sliced.

 _There_.

She looks up, expectant. Tense. Jagged, tiny breaths. Awkwardly, he tries to soothe her, disarm her worries. She trusts him like it's instinctive, like her being (displaced) depends on it—him. But when he slides into her, he can't help but see the other's face. Her pale smile, her trapped-in scent.

Guilt, twice drilled, is sure to be venomous.

_How does it feel to be betrayed?_

(By your own self, no less.)

\--

Somewhere down the dotted line, Rin ceased chasing him. Given up, he would've called it but forfeiting isn't her.

Before he could assess the perils of self-doubt, she's waxed and waned a hundred times over. Except, this time, it's someone else who's got her heart fluttering. Because there's no reincarnation for romance, no retries for resurrected bastards like him.

(those accidentally thrown in love)

His mouth goes sour.

 _It's just a crush,_   _nothing more, just a—_

"Who?" he demands, barely a whisper and scaling up vertebrae.

She doesn't answer despite the name being written on her face (she never could hide anything from him). Sudden, Kakashi drops his hand from her shoulder. Scorched. Ambushed _._  Like a curse superimposed on the swirls of his fingertips.

And from that day on, whenever he sees Yondaime— _Sensei_  (he mocks)—his insides squirm a little more and more,  _more_.

Resentment, Kakashi learns, has no antidote.

 

**VI.**

**  
**

"I thought you died."

Kakashi struggles to sit up, but the pain is absolute—crucifying—and fatigued, he collapses. The hospital room is chilly. Air is harsh, compressed, smelling like mold unearthed from the cellar. And his lungs have forgotten how to breathe.

"I thought you died," Sakura repeats. Her eyes are flooding with tears.

He tries to smile, abate her fears. "Hey. It's okay. I'm okay."

"They—they said you…that there was nothing they could do. And I…I was so scared."

Shakily, he takes her hand. He is weak and she is clammy and together, they can be doubly human. Twice mortal.

She kisses his cheek. And he squeezes her hand once more, swearing he won't let go.

Not this time.

\--

Rin is not there to witness Yondaime's death. Rin is safe (spared) from the immediacy of shock and mourning. And at his funeral, Rin is the only one who does not cry. Perfectly composed, she endures the sermons with dignity.

But later that night, she can feel her façade shattering. Grazed off in slivers, unable to rebind itself. And so, Kakashi pulls her in. As she bawls hysterically into his chest, he curses Yondaime for dying.

"Why did Sensei have to die?"

Her sobs grow louder. Her cheeks are stained raw. And still, amazingly, she is beautiful.

"Because he had no other choice," he replies (unconvinced).

_Because he needed to protect the village, us—you._

Raising her head, shy, she presses her lips on his cheek. And just as fast, she flees. It's the first (last) kiss she ever gave him.

One year later, Rin dies.

And he is miles apart.

 


End file.
